Flipped
by Lady Knight of Kennan
Summary: What would have happened if Ron’s parents had been wanted by Voldemort, and Ron had been *The Boy Who Lived* this is their story! please R&R!!! Thankx! CHP 8 up... Ron! please R
1. Enlightenment

What would have happened if Ron's parents had been wanted by Voldemort, and Ron had been the boy who lived? This is their story…  
  
Flipped  
  
Chapter One: Enlightenment  
  
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Arthur and Molly Weasley were called to the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the wee hours of the morning by a very urgent owl. They asked a neighboring young wizard girl to watch their seven children while they were still sleeping, and they quickly aparated to the headmaster's office.  
  
The headmaster was sitting behind his desk when the witch and wizard suddenly materialized in front of him. He smiled slightly as they sat down, their faces masks of worry.  
  
"Thank you, Arthur and Molly, for coming on such short notice," the old wizard told them gravely.  
  
Arthur nodded slightly, and then got right to the point. "What was so urgent Dumbledore, that you had to call us here so early?" he had a slight strain in his voice, but tried his best to hide it. The great wizard Dumbledore was not very often worried, but lately the Dark Lord, He-who- must-not-be-named, had been attacking with renewed vigor, and muggles and wizards alike were dieing. The recent events made Arthur and molly very careful about their children, who would all go to Hogwarts in time.  
  
"As you know," began Dumbledore, sitting up in his chair a bit, "I have had a member of our side running spy in the inner circle of Voldemort's (both Molly and Arthur flinched at the name, but said nothing) followers, and he has brought me some very important information." He sighed at this, and seemed resigned to continue his message, but Arthur and molly waited, and let him gain his composure. "I have had information that voldemort will soon be coming after the Weasley family." He looked up at the two with miserable eyes.  
  
Molly gasped, and buried her face into her husband's shoulder. Arthur paled, and looked down for a moment. When he looked back up at Dumbledore after consoling his wife, his eyes were slightly red. If Dumbledore noticed that a high-ranking ministry official was about to cry in his office, he did not comment.  
  
"Why?" Arthur managed to croak out after a while. "Why us?" He looked at Dumbledore, his eyes pleading.  
  
Dumbledore sighed again, and leaned back in his chair. "I am not quite sure. Neither is my spy. All we know is that you are being targeted, and you need to know so that proper precautions can be taken." At this he smiled ruefully, and went on. "We are going to make sure that all of you are as safe as possible, and that nothing is going to happen." Arthur and Molly seemed to accept this, and nodded mutely.  
  
"We will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our children," Molly said boldly, raising her head off of her husband's shoulder to look Dumbledore in the eyes. "Anything."  
  
"I agree also," Arthur told him. "I will do whatever you think is necessary to protect our family."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Alright then. What we had in mind was a charm. It works like this. Your home and plot of land that it sits on can be altered, moved, so to speak, into another dimension. (a/n: in case anyone has noticed, this is not the fidelius (sp?) charm that James and Lily used. This story is different.) Voldemort will not be able reach or even seek your home, and, we hope, that you will be safe."  
  
Arthur and Molly nodded throughout the explanation. "We'll do it!" Arthur stated, and hugged Molly tightly. Dumbledore smiled, getting up from behind his desk and shaking hands with Arthur, then hugging Molly.  
  
"This will work," he said, his voice and look fierce. Arthur and Molly Weasley believed wholeheartedly in him, and he knew that. He also knew that they would not handle knowing what he knew.  
  
Dumbledore watched the two disaparate back to their home and then sat in his desk chair again. The attacks by Voldemort were getting more frequent and more deadly. His Death Eaters were becoming much more ruthless, attacking children and families with out concern or guilt. They would not blink an eye at killing the entire Weasley family, with its most recent edition of their new baby girl. Dumbledore worried for them, but hoped that this charm that professor Flitwick had helped to find would work against the Dark Lord.  
  
He sighed for the thousandth time that day. He was getting worked to death trying to find and destroy all of Voldemort's minions. So far, the only information that he had succeeded in learning was that there was someone that was playing spy for Voldemort; Someone who pretended to be loyal to the Light side, but was informing the Dark Lord of all of their plans ahead of time. This person needed to be caught and terminated, before more damage was done to their side. Dumbledore went to his cupboard that held most of his magic supplies and took out a round shallow bowl full of a silvery liquid. He brought the pensive to his desk, took out his wand, put it to his head and began to empty his thoughts into the bowl.  
  
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When the Weasley parents got back to the Burrow they were bombarded by their eight children and one very hassled looking babysitter. They paid the girl and sent to back home. As to their children they sent the oldest, Bill who was twelve, and Charlie who was ten, to the kitchen to get some breakfast for all of them. The other children, Percy, who was six, Fred and George, twins who were four, Ron, who was one and few months, and their first little girl, who was just two months old.  
  
When all of them were finally sitting around the table and eating their breakfast Molly and Arthur at last took a good look around at all of their children - who all had flaming red hair like both of their parents. Molly looked at all of her children with tearing eyes, knowing what could happen if the Dark Lord ever found them and dreading it with all of her being. Arthur, knowing what she was thinking, put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, assuring her everything would be all right. He would protect his family in all of his power.  
  
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When all of the children were finally in bed Arthur and Molly went into the living room and sat on the couch together. They both just leaned against one another for a while and sat in silence letting the rare quiet of their house.  
  
"Arthur," Molly said after a while, her voice wavering, "Arthur, are you sure we're doing the right thing listening to Dumbledore?"  
  
Arthur replied, his tone confident, "yes. Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world, and he knows how to evade you-know-who. I think we will be safe." He suggested then that they go up to bed, and they climbed the many staircases to their room and as they were just falling asleep, Arthur Weasley thought to himself, I hope I am right, and that my family will be safe.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: okay folks, this is and new fic, and my first HP. Hope you like it!! And you all know what to do if you want the story to continue! Hit that little button down there that says 'Review' and you will get more!!!! Constructive criticism is welcome, as is happy reviews!!! Just review please!!!!!! 


	2. Descions and Workings

Flipped  
  
Chapter Two: Decisions and Workings  
  
Disclaimer: okie doky folks!! You all know that I do not own Harry Potter, Ron or any of these ppl! (if I did, would I be writing fanfiction?? I don't think so!! I would be working on book 5!!!) (  
  
Anywayz, I hope you like the rest of this story. It really isn't mean to be that big a deal. I wrote the first chapter to get rid of writers block on another story, and I seem to like this one!! so I guess ill continue!! Well, enjoy! And REVIEW!! Please!!!!  
  
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Arthur and Molly Weasley were woken up the next morning by the screaming of eight children running about there home. as soon as the children were aware that their parents were sitting up in bed reading the Daily Prophet, they bombarded them with questions. Can I go to Bobby's house? Will you make me breakfast? Can I ride my toy broom outside? Can I ride my toy broom in the house? (to which both parents shouted 'NO!') They were used to this, and answered each question from everyone, Molly holding little Ginny on her lap, holding her bottle. At last, all of the children besides Ginny had ran downstairs to play with their toys or friends. Arthur saw to it that Ron was safely in his playpen in his room, and the two sat down on the bed, and sorted out last night's events in their heads.  
  
When Molly sighed, Arthur looked over at her and smiled slightly. "so," he said quietly. "what are you thinking?"  
  
Molly didn't answer right away, but looked thoughtful for a moment. "I look at all of my children, and wonder what they did to deserve the pursuit of the Dark Lord. They are just children. What did we do to deserve it? I am not sure I know what to do Arthur, but I know one thing. I will not let my home be invaded by Him with out a fight, that I am sure of." After her passionate speech, Molly sat back down on the bed, tickling Ginny in the tummy, waiting for her husband's response.  
  
Arthur was inspired by his wife's passion, and knew he felt the same way. "Alright then," he stated softly but with force. "we will perform this charm, and hope that everything will go as planned, and we will be safe again." Or as safe as anyone is these days, he thought to himself. Molly nodded in agreement, but didn't answer as Fred (or George, she couldn't always tell) came into their room screaming that Charlie had broken his toy broom, and Charlie followed, insisting that he had only 'accidentally' crashed it into a pack of lawn gnomes, who had eaten it. Molly rolled her eyes, and followed her children downstairs to divert another storm of tears and accusations.  
  
Arthur followed, laughing silently all the way down the stairs. He loved his family, but he didn't know how long he would be able to stand them if they were kept to the house for weeks on end. He shuddered at the thought of all of the children here at the same time all day long, and then laughed at his folly. He would get by, as long as his family was safe. He went into Ron, Fred and George's room and saw his youngest son building with some of the foam blocks that he had gotten for his first birthday. Ron was always fascinated with them, especially when he finished building whatever he was building and it lit up with mini fireworks and a grand opening parade. Arthur laughed, as his son was awed once again. The young wizard toys were getting better and better as time went on. He picked Ron up and hoisted him on his hip to go downstairs.  
  
"Dada!" Ron squealed happily. He has recently learned to talk, and loved it. "Me want broom!" he exclaimed, as they reached the bottom of the steps and saw his older brother go zooming across the living room about three inches above the ground on a toy broom.  
  
"Now Fred!" Molly cried, chasing after his with a wand, "I told you specifically 'NO flying in the house! Go outside and fly!" she shooed the boy outside after Taping him lightly on the head.  
  
"Me want broom," little Ron repeated sadly.  
  
"Not yet little tyke," Arthur told him, and set the boy down on the ground so that he could teeter outside and play with his brothers. Molly looked busy in the kitchen, muttering to herself about brooms inside and something about lawn gnomes. Arthur smiled and walked outside into the beautiful weekend sunshine. He loved his summer days off from the ministry work.  
  
Ginny was in a small playpen on the little grass that was left in the yard, on her back playing with a toddler toy that arched over her and said random things to the child that seemed to amuse her. Percy, reading a thick book of Hogwarts Rules watched over Ginny. Arthur looked further into the yard, and saw Charlie and Bill practicing Quiditch on their Cleansweeps that they had gotten for Christmas that year. They had been on sale at a yard sale, and the boys seemed to love them, despite begin erm, a bit more than slightly used. They still flew though, which made all the difference. At least, that was what he had told the boys Christmas morning when they looked sad at having hand-me-down brooms.  
  
Oh well, Arthur thought now, they seem to like them now. Charlie, at least, had great potential as a quiditch player. He was in his first year at Hogwarts, and was aspiring to be on the quiditch team next year. Bill, however, was a great student. In his second year, he was getting excellent marks in all of his classes. He seemed to be liked by all of his professors, and most of his peers. Arthur saw great promise for Bill in the academic regions of his life. He smiled, and looked for his other children. Fred seemed to be chasing George around the yard, waving a stuffed animal over his head. Or, was it the other way around, George chasing Fred? Did it ever matter? What mattered was that the stuffed animal was flaming, and the boy chasing was going to be aflame in a moment. Arthur whipped out his own wand and whispered a few chosen words that turned the flames of the teddy bear into cold tickling flames that made Fred (George?) stop and look down at it quizzically. He put his hand in it a few times before the other twin looked back, and came to examine the tickling flames on the teddy bear.  
  
Arthur shook his head, and turned to go back into the house to help Molly. As her was turning, he saw Ron, looking closely at the bushes on the side of the yard. Arthur wondered briefly what he was doing before walking over to lean down over the child. What he saw made his catch his breath quickly. His eighteen-month-old son leaning over so quizzically was a small ring in the dirt. It looked like a gold ring that could belong to any muggle on the street. Arthur leaned over his son, and picked it up to examine it, much to the dismay of Ron. He turned it over to look at the front and dropped it quickly. He picked Ron up and backed away from the ring, his face was pale, clashing horribly with his stark red hair. He looked terrified.  
  
"Daddy!? I wuz playin wit dat!" Ron protested, trying to wiggle out of his father's arms.  
  
"RON STOP!" Arthur yelled severely, and all playing in the yard, from the oldest quiditch players to the youngest little girl, ceased immediately. None of the children could remember their father ever sounding like that. Molly quickly ran out from the house, searching wildly for the danger, and seeing only startled children and a scared looked husband holding the baby boy.  
  
"Arthur?" she asked quietly, obviously afraid.  
  
"Everyone get back into the house, now." he said softly, but everyone heard him. Bill and Charlie looked at each other for a moment before running to the house and urging Fred and George into the back door. Percy put down his book and, looking from his mother to father wildly, picked up Ginny and went in side as well. Molly ran up to Arthur and took Ron from his arms.  
  
"Arthur," she said, her small voice afraid. "What is it?"  
  
"Take Ron inside." He told her evasively. Backed away, but stared at her husband worriedly. Ron struggled in her arms, but she held him fast. She was not going to leave him with, well, whatever it was alone. Bill came to the door, and looked at his father, frightened and confused. Molly saw him, and told him to take his brother and watch the little ones for a while. When he went back inside, she crept up to her husband who was now leaning over a bush holding something small between two fingers.  
  
"Arthur?" she repeated, worried for him. He looked back at her, a frightened look on his pale face. He was holding what she saw as a muggle pin. She was confused for a moment at why he would make such a fuss over a little ring, but looked at it closely. She saw what had frightened him so bad, and her throat got tight.  
  
The muggle ring was gold wrought and the front was large, for a ring, but still relatively small. It was this picture that made them both terrified of the very thing. It was background in a deep violet, but the figure that was in a glowing white that scared them the most. It was the Dark Mark, plain and simple. Neither of them had ever seen The Mark on a muggle piece of jewelry. It was terrifying, but they had no idea why any wizarding mark would be on a muggle piece of jewelry. Arthur held it in his palm, his hand shaking slightly.  
  
"Wha-" he tried, loosing his voice for a moment. "What should we do with it?" he whispered, not sure if he was asking Molly or himself.  
  
"Dumbledore." Was the only word Molly uttered, but Arthur knew immediately that she was right. He nodded mutely, took out his wand, clutching the ring in his other hand and apparated away from the burrow.  
  
Molly stared for a moment at the spot where he had disappeared, and then got up with a groan. She turned to see six small, worried faces staring at her from the doorway. She tried to smile at them comfortingly, but failed horribly. They didn't seem to mind. Nothing was said while she walked slowly inside, and sat on the couch next to Ron, who was now playing with a small figurine of something. Ginny was lying on a blanket on the floor. The other children silently sat around her, not speaking, just being together for a moment of silence.  
  
  
  
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A/N: okie dokey folks.. (I like saying that!!) anywayz, tell me what you think of this pleeeease!!!!! I need to know if I should continue, or if this is too stupid to keep writing and should take it donw…. Well… Come On Folks!!! REVIEW!!!!! I need revewis to continue!! But otherwise, tell what u honestly thought. If this sux, tell me it sux!! Don't be afraid to speak ur mind!! (OMG!!! Now I sould like my mother!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! *runs away screaming about turning into her mom with her hands waving in the air *  
  
Directors Voice: Umm.. ahem, the author is experiencing erm, some sanity difficulties, and will be leaving now. Please review her story if you want it to continue. 


	3. Serious Discussions

Flipped  
  
Chapter Three: Serious Discussions  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story except the plot, (and maybe not even that. Has anyone ever seen this done before?)  
  
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Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was sitting at his desk writing a letter, when he was startled to see a man suddenly appear in front of his desk. He was reaching for his wand inside his robes, when he realized who it was. A middle-aged man, with flaming red hair, a small bald spot, who was out of breath and the moment stood before him.  
  
"Arthur!" cried Dumbledore when he recognized him. "What brings you here?" he asked, slightly troubled at the ministry official's abrupt entrance.  
  
"Had to get you… *pant pant * ring… dark mark… Ron..." he muttered, incoherently, while Dumbledore tried to make sense of his rantings.  
  
"Slow down," the headmaster told him gently, easing him into a chair. "breathe, then tell me what happened." He told him, composed, as usual.  
  
Arthur paused before going on again. "my son, Ron, found a ring, in our yard." At this, he held out a shaking hand to Dumbledore, and opened it, to reveal the haunting ring. Dumbledore looked closely at it, before picking it up gingerly with only the tips of his fingers. He examined every possible inch of the ring, before looking back at Arthur.  
  
"Where did you say you found this?" he asked Arthur, a deadly calm to his voice.  
  
"Ron. Ron found it, in the bushes. In our front yard. He was, playing with it, or something." Arthur told him, his voice shaking a bit. Dumbledore nodded, but said nothing. Instead, he looked back at the ring, gazing at it for a few moments. After a while, Arthur couldn't stand it, and started, "Albus?"  
  
Dumbledore looked startled, but looked back at Arthur again. "Yes," he said slowly. "Sorry." He paused, before going on. "I believe I know what this is, but I have not seen the likes of it in a very long time. A very long time." He muttered to himself, staring intently at the ring in his palm. He snapped out of it quickly though, and looked back at Arthur, his eyes old and wise, but also sad. "The only person who has ever had muggle jewelry carved, would be, well," he hesitated, then plunged on. "The only person to create muggle jewelry, would be the Dark Lord himself, when he was at the very beginning of his journey into the Dark Arts." He looked at Arthur pointedly, and sat back behind his desk, sighing.  
  
Arthur continued to stare straight ahead, his eyes blank, his face pale. "What does that mean?" he whispered, not moving.  
  
Dumbledore sighed before replying. "It means, dear Arthur, that Voldemort, or one of his Death Eaters, has been near your house in the past twenty- four hours." He looked down, not meeting Arthur's eyes, but heard him reply softly, "alright. Molly and I agreed to do this charm this morning, and now it seems that it will be necessary to have it done as soon as possible."  
  
Dumbledore nodded and told him, "The soonest we can start the process is tomorrow night, and all of your family needs to be there."  
  
Arthur nodded, and stood up from the chair, looking considerably better than he had when he had arrived. "Thank you for all your help Dumbledore." He said, reaching over the table and shaking hands with the headmaster. "We will all appreciate it." He took out his wand then, and disappeared from the office of the headmaster, back to the burrow.  
  
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Molly Weasley sat with her children for a few moments before shooing all the children upstairs and then started to clean the kitchen, whether it needed it or not. She was halfway through mopping the floor the muggle way, when her husband popped back into the house.  
  
She rushed over to him immediately, and hugged him tight. "Arthur," she said into his shirt, her voice muffled slightly. "Is everything going to be alright?" she asked him tearfully.  
  
"We're going to make it alright, my love. We're going to try." He answered her, "We are going to try."  
  
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A/N: alrighty folks!! How did you like this chappy??? I know, I know, its not very long, and I'm sorry. But its now 1:53 at night, and I am going to go to bed, and I couldn't think of anything else to fit into this chapter, so I decided this would be it! Hope you like it, and I will try to get more up soon, but *despair * school is going back, and teachers will be very mean and give me loads of homeowork. That and I must do all my spring break homework the night before school gets back!! lol anywayz, I hope you liked it, and I hope that you want this to continue, cuz if you do, you'll REVIEW!!!!!  
  
And my shoutouts, (the wonderful THREE ppl that reviewed.)  
  
Urania: thank you for thinking this doesn't suck. lol!  
  
Misty: thanks, and I hope that you like this chappy.  
  
La2ur2a: thank you, and you have very good prophecy skills, cuz u were right!!  
  
Hope that everyone likes this chapter enough to REVIEW!!!!! Thank you, and good nite! 


	4. The Spell

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Chapter Four: The Spell  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They belong to JKR, and I own the plot. (I think)  
  
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When Arthur arrived back at the burrow, he was greeted by scurrying children, and crying babies. Ron seemed to be having a tantrum about some toy. At least, Arthur thought it was a toy. Ron just kept shouting, "Give back! Me want!" while stomping his feet on the floor. The rest of the household ignored him; they were used to baby tantrums and fits around here. Ginny was sleeping in a carrier on the couch, much to Arthur's surprise. How could she sleep in all this racket that the kids were making? When Arthur went further into the house he found Molly. She was in the kitchen preparing dinner for the family. It seemed to be a bit extravagant for a normal night, but Arthur wasn't too surprised. Molly seemed to like to cook to get rid of her emotions, being fear, anger, or both.  
  
"Hello Molly dear,' he told her, setting his cloak on a chair, and kissing Molly lightly on the cheek from behind. Her only reply was to lean back slightly, letting her husband take her weight for a moment. The moment did not last long however. Charlie came in a few moments later, screaming that Bill had thrown a pile of dragon dung on him and ruined his robes. Bill came in a moment later defending himself forcefully. Molly handled it by glowering at both boys until they stopped, and telling them to sit in a corner until they could calm down long enough to not yell and accuse. Both boys went upstairs sulking, and glaring at the other.  
  
Arthur just smiled. It was good to be home. He had been away from home way too often these days. With the Dark Lord rising, most ministry members were on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Arthur was lucky to have gotten one day off, and look what had happened to it now. It was full of fear of you-know-who again. Arthur sighed. Molly turned to look at him after a moment of silence.  
  
"What did he say?" she asked quietly. She didn't even have to mention who or what. He knew what she was talking about.  
  
"He told me he didn't know," he told his wife, equally quiet, as if trying to keep out any eavesdropping children.  
  
"How could Dumbledore not know about something?" she asked him fearfully. The idea that the most powerful wizard in the world did not know what that thing had been was unsettling to Molly. Especially when they had found the Dark Mark on their property. The experience was chilling.  
  
"He is only human after all, Molly." Arthur told her gently. "You can't expect him to be all knowing." Molly nodded at this, but said nothing. It didn't seem that words could have expressed her feelings at the moment. He understood. He strode across the small kitchen, and wrapped Molly into a hug, ignoring the world in chaos around them for a moment.  
  
But than Ron began to scream again, and Ginny began to cry, and Fred, (or was it George) came streaming through the house with nothing but his underwear on. Arthur rolled his eyes at his children. They could be so strange sometimes. He wondered for a moment where they got that, but left the matter be when he went to calm Ginny and tell Ron to hush.  
  
The house went about its normal business for a while and finally sat down to dinner at the slightly cramped table in the dining room, that was connected to the kitchen. The meal was finished without disaster that night, and everyone was settling into their evening activities, when there was a small 'pop!' at the fireplace, and a head appeared in the flames.  
  
The children who were in the room at the time, Bill, Charlie and Ron, were astounded, until they recognized the head.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore?!" Bill asked incredulously. Dumbledore just smiled, and asked for Arthur.  
  
"Dad!" screamed Charlie, not bothering to move. "Dad! There's a head in the fireplace asking for you!" Arthur came bundling down the stairs at top speed and looked at the scene before him. Dumbledore's head sat in the fireplace with that merry twinkle in his eyes, looking calmly at the boys, who were staring back at him, apparently awed that their headmaster's head was in their fireplace. Arthur wasted no time, however.  
  
"Boys," he told them firmly, "take your brother upstairs please, and tell your mother who called." He walked over to Dumbledore, and leaned down to the grate and began to speak in hushed voices with him. Bill and Charlie, as much as they would have liked to stay, decided it would be best to leave before someone got angry. It was known to happen when people called his father from the fire.  
  
"So, Albus," Arthur said as he crouched down to be closer to the headmaster's head. "Any news on how to perform the charm?" he asked tersely, not knowing if he wanted to hear the answer.  
  
"Of course, Arthur," he said calmly. "I told you I would be able to perform it soon, and the sooner the better. We are able to perform it tonight, if it would be alright with you." He told the slightly taken aback ministry official staring at him. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"Of course!" Arthur said, once he had regained his composure. "Of course!" He repeated. "Give me a few moments to collect the children and Molly, and we will be ready to do whatever you need." He promised the headmaster, eagerly willing to do anything in his power to help this process. He came down from his short high quickly though, and his happiness ebbed. "Err, Dumbledore," he asked, looking down at the head once again. Dumbledore looked at him expectantly, silently urging him to continue. "Well, have you found anything on that ring that I showed you earlier?" he asked, his face apprehensive.  
  
Dumbledore's face darkened at the mention of it, and Arthur sat on the floor for a moment to collect himself. This could not be good. "No," the headmaster told him shortly. "And I've been asking around for a while. No one seems to know of anyone that would put the Dark Mark in a piece of muggle jewelry. It just doesn't make sense. Voldemort (Arthur cringed at the name, but said nothing as he continued) hates muggles, why would he put any of his signs on any muggle artifact?" he looked thoughtful for a moment, but snapped back to attention to look at Arthur, who was staring.  
  
"Right then. Thank you ever so much Albus," he said graciously, getting up to stretch. "I shall go and collect the children, and Molly, and you shall.. .?" he paused, not knowing how the headmaster had planned this.  
  
"I will apparate there, with the colleagues that we need to help perform the charm, and the tools. Its quite a complicated charm, for which all of your family must be present." Dumbledore smiled to himself at the idea of all of the Weasleys in a small room together for more that a few moments. Utter chaos. Arthur just nodded, having some idea of what the headmaster was smiling about left the room as the small 'pop!' told him that Dumbledore's head had left the fireplace.  
  
  
  
When all of the party needed for the task was present in the Weasley's dining room, they were all very cramped. Firstly, Dumbledore was present, accompanied by a very small wizard who happened to be the top wizard in Charms in Britain, Professor Flitwick. Also present was the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall. Add that to the mass confusion of eight children and two aggravated parents, and Dumbledore's prediction had been correct. It was utter Chaos.  
  
It took a few whistles on Mr. Weasley's part to silence the children, but they finally had peace. Dumbledore nodded at him in thanks, and then turned to the rest of the people present.  
  
"Thank you all for attending." He told them, his eyes dancing. "We are going to perform a very complex charm on the Weasley household. One that will keep you all separated from the wizarding world for however long is necessary. There were many worried faces among the children, but Molly assured them that everything would be fine, as long as everyone did exactly as the headmaster said.  
  
The only one to answer he was Ron, who was being held by Bill, with a gleeful "Dumbledee help!" Everyone in the room laughed at this, and the tension that had crept upon them with Dumbledore' s words eased.  
  
Arthur and Molly situated the children on the run down couches and chairs, hoping that they would not get too bored and decide to ruin the spell. All they needed to do was be good for a little while. Unfortunately, both parents knew how futile that request was of their children.  
  
After a moment of blissful silence, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and all eyes turned towards him. "Right then. Shall we get right into it then?" he asked, though no one expected to answer.  
  
"How long will you expect this to take, Albus?" Professor McGonagall said with a meaningful glance at the eight restless children on the couches. Dumbledore got the message, however vague it was, and turned to the rest of the onlookers.  
  
"Yes, yes. Well, we won't take too much time," he told them, his eyes twinkling yet again. Arthur wondered wildly for a moment if they ever stopped twinkling. 'That'll be the day,' he thought 'when Dumbledore's eyes no longer twinkle, the world will have serious problems.' He came back to attention as the headmaster went on.  
  
"This should not take over an hour, but I am afraid that the children, and yourselves," he said, looking gravely at Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, "will need to remain unmoving for the entire time."  
  
The children looked appalled at sitting still for that long, but said nothing as Mrs. Weasley rounded on them.  
  
"Hear that? All of you, sit still, and don't say anything. This won't take too long." She told her children, all of who were looking very uncomfortable at the thought of doing nothing for more than five minutes. The twins, sitting on Percy's and Charlie's lap, looked particularly lively and Molly thought she saw a glimmer of mischief in both their eyes. She overlooked it for the moment, but made a mental note to have a talk with them about that. She took a swift glance at all of the children. They were doing this to protect them, all of them. She prayed it would work. With bright eyes, she turned back to the adults.  
  
"Ready," she told them, looking determinedly at Dumbledore. "Let's do this." She reached out, and Arthur took her hand automatically. Dumbledore nodded, and turned to both professors behind him.  
  
"Do we have all the necessary supplies?" he asked Professor Flitwick, looking down at the small wizard.  
  
"Quite right," he squeaked back, craning his head to look at Dumbledore. "Everything needed is here."  
  
Dumbledore nodded in approval, and answered, "Then let us begin."  
  
The three professors formed a triangle in the Weasley's living room, and began to chant arcane words that no one else understood. The entire spell took a little more than an hour, and consisted of the three professors chanting, and throwing a bit of a herb, or a chip of some kind into the center of their triangle. The whole room was lit with a brilliant, pale blue light, that somehow gave comfort to all watching.  
  
The children gazed at them, entranced at the three teachers working such a huge magic in their very own living room. Bill and Charlie had never known how powerful their teachers were, but felt a deep appreciation and awe for all three of them. There was no trace of mischief in any child's eyes. They were wondered at the intensity of it all.  
  
Arthur and Molly stood, holding hands through the entire ceremony, gazing steadily at the three powerful wizards working a dangerous magic on their home. they could feel when the forces of protection were called, and when the home itself, and the atoms around it changed in frequency slightly. It was a eerie feeling; one that neither of them liked, but both knew that it meant safety for their family. They were willing to go through anything to protect the eight children sitting on the couch next to them. Anything.  
  
When Dumbledore broke the triangle of professors, and spoke a word of power that gave the air an electric charge, the Weasley's all knew that they were done. Dumbledore himself looked slightly ill, and the other two looked none the worse for ware. Arhtur and Molly helped them all to a seat on a run down chair, and Molly bustled to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.  
  
"can we move now?" came a small voice from the couch in the corner of the room. The four grownups looked, amused, at the begging eyes of most of the children. Dumbledore laughed, and his eyes twinkled once more.  
  
"Yes, children," he told them kindly, "you may go. But remember, you cannot leave the house until your parents tell you you can." He told them seriously.  
  
The older children cheered, and leapt off the couch, Percy setting Ginny in her rocker before running to join the others. The twins were a few steps behind their brothers, and Ron was still trying to get off the couch, his feet dangling over the edge, trying desperately to touch the floor. Everyone, including Molly, who had just arrived with a pot of tea and a tray of cups, laughed as the seven children run out of the room (Ron now waddling as fast as was possible to catch up with his brothers).  
  
"Have some tea, please, before you leave." Molly offered the wane professors. They accepted readily, and soon all five of them were sitting in a chair, discussing quietly the growing pressures of He-who-must-not-be- named, and the effectiveness of this charm.  
  
As Dumbledore signaled that it was reaching time to leave, he stood. "Thank you very much, Molly dear, for the tea." He told her, and turned to his companions. "Come Minerva, Caspan, it is time we leave." Turning to the Weasley's, he told them gently, "Contact me through the fire if anything happens. Don't hesitate." He gave Molly a small hug, and turned back to the professors. "Let us go then." And with a wave of their wands, they disaparated from the Weasley household, leaving two parents with eight hyperactive children, in one small house.  
  
Sighing, Molly went to Ginny's carrier, an old one of Bill's, and brought the baby up to her shoulder. She turned to her husband, who looked as worried about the situation at hand as she felt, and they trudged upstairs together, trying hard to ignore the constant yelling, various bangs and booms, and the chaos that was their home.  
  
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A/N: So… what do you all think?!?!? I hope you like it… From the number of reviews I think it sux, but oh well… I like writing it, so if you like it review and tell me what you think, if you hate it and think I am the spawn a Satan for creating such a horrible story and plotline, then flame me!!! But please put at least a smidgeon of constructive critisim in the flames… it does help. Well, maybe it does, I've never been flamed, so I don't know…. Oh well! I hope you do like it, and tell me what I should do or am doing wrong! That's how this whole review thing works! I give you story, you give me review, (or a flame, depending on how you thought of the story!!) =D Catch y'all later  
  
Ps. I will try and post more regularly, but don't count on it. Finals are coming, and my teachers are all evil!! Ttfn! 


	5. Voldemort

Flipped

Chapter Five: Voldemort

Disclaimer: yatta yatta yatta….   All people/cast etc. belongs to JKR and all publishers associates and important people like that who should be working on book five, but are probably partying in her wealth  (I'm not bitter or anything, nooo), and I own the plot…  hopefully. Now, on with the story…

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When Arthur and Molly were woken up the next morning, it was by five very annoyed looking children.  Their ears were full of cries of boredom at not being able to leave the house, and similar arguments.  Arthur took care of those immediately.

"I know that you all want to go play," he explained to his five oldest children, "but you need to stay inside and play, that's all." he knew it was futile to try and get them to agree on anything, but he tried, at least. 

When the kids had filed out grumbling under their breath, Molly and Arthur sat up, sighing slightly.  It was going to be a long hideout. 

"How long do you think they'll last before one of them tries to kill someone else?" Molly asked her husband in a mock-serious tone.  

"Oh," answered Arthur, jokingly, "a few hours, maybe a day." He smiled at his wife, and kissed her sweetly before hopping out of bed.  "Don't worry Molly, we'll be safe." And with that, he strode out of the room, headed downstairs to break up any future fights. 

Molly stayed in bed only a moment longer, contemplating why on earth the Dark Lord could want to harm her family.  She was still clueless.  She found no solstice in brooding about it though, and firmly made her way downstairs, to help her husband keep the wild ones under control.  

By lunchtime that day, Molly was ready to murder some of her own children herself.  In the course of a few short hours, hundreds (it seemed like) of disasters had happened. Bill had fallen off of the ceiling fan, where he was trying to pretend to be a world famous Quidditch player with out the use of his broom, and broken his ankle.  He was now in bed, a healing charm placed on him and strict orders to stay bedridden.  Fred had decided that his baby brother Ron needed some excitement in his life, and told him to try an acid pop.  Poor Ron had a hole in his tongue and was being held by his mother, still crying.  George and Charlie were arguing over some toy or another, while Percy was tattling on them.  Ginny was playing happily in her playpen, ignoring her many brothers and their issues. 

All the children knew that their mother was horrible when angry, and needless to say, most of them ended up in various rooms or corners in punishment.  Finally, Molly had her much deserved quiet. 

She set out to cleaning, a job never done in the Burrow. She was almost done with the house, when she heard yelling from upstairs.  She sighed, and made her way up to put a stop to yet another argument over space.  When she got there, George and Fred swore the other had touched him, or looked at him wrong.  Molly had had enough.

"THAT'S IT!" she shouted, stomping her foot for emphasis.  "I want all of you in this room at once!" Everyone in the house could hear her, and they all (with the exception of little Ginny) trudged up to meet their certain doom, or so they thought. 

When all children were assembled in front of her, Molly started.

"I am tired of all of your silly arguments," she started, glowering at each boy.  "I want you boys to get along while we are stuck inside a house here.  I know its not fair to you, but these are trying times, and I hope that all of you will show some courage, and stop tormenting each other long enough to get along and learn something." She glared at them all for good measure, and then sent them all away, telling them they were out of punishment. 

By the time Arthur had gotten home that night, the boys were playing quietly, or trying, and Ginny was asleep again. He found his wife starting dinner, looking much happier than when he had left her. If he found anything strange about the situation, he wisely didn't mention it. 

With dinner over, Molly sent the kids away, and they ran upstairs, Ron once again a ways behind his brothers, trying for all he was worth to catch up.  Molly held Ginny, and they made their own way upstairs to their room.  

"We survived," Molly muttered, before setting Ginny in her crib, and falling into bed, utterly exhausted. Arthur just smiled, and climbed into bed after her. 

The next day was considerably better in the Weasley household.   The rambunctious boys tried their best to play considerably, and when all else failed, they squabbled quietly, a good ways away from their mother. 

Molly had the easiest time.  She spent her second day in the house playing with her only daughter, trying to get the infant to talk.  Ron was no help, being almost eighteen months himself, he was very happy to be able to say most of what was on his mind.  He led continuing commentary to Ginny's silence.  Molly didn't tire though.  She found the situation entirely amusing.   

By midday, Arthur had come home early from work, boldly stating that he cared not a twit for his boss, and wanted to stay with his family.  Molly giggled like a schoolgirl, and the boys cheered.  The afternoon found the boys and their father running up and down the stairs of the rickety old house, hiding and chasing one another around for hours.  Molly put Ginny to sleep, with a silencing charm on her worn crib, and laughed as she made dinner, the occasional child scampering into and quickly out of the kitchen. 

When everyone was worn out, and dinner was ready, the spirits were high.  There was not a face at the crowded table that wasn't smiling, or outright laughing.  Dinner was a happy affair, and both parents and their children enjoyed the company of family.  

Sadly, their small bout of paradise could not last forever.

As the large, but happy family was just finishing a fantastic dessert of pudding and cream, their came a gigantic crash from outside, and the lights all went out at the same instant.  The children became deathly quite, and Ginny could be heard whimpering from Molly's shoulder.  Arthur got up quickly.  He motioned for his family to remain where they were, and left the kitchen, traveling through the small house to the front door.  

Wide, frightened eyes met Molly's in the kitchen, but she could offer her many children no comfort.  Her own face was white as a ghost, and she looked frightened to death herself.  Bill, the oldest, decided he needed to help and, assessing the situation, knew that something was wrong, very wrong.  His mother was frightened, and his father was worried; two states that were very rare in both parents.  He took in the state of his brothers and sister.  Charlie was trying to comfort Percy, who looked to be more scared than his mother, as quietly as possible.  The twins were holding on to each other, seldom seen identical looks of seriousness on their faces.  Ginny was in his mothers arms, and Ron, Ron was by himself, looking at his family with wide brown eyes.  He sat on a stack of weathered books, seeming to be nonchalant.  Bill guessed that the small boy was too young to understand what was going on.  

What _was_ going on?  Bill didn't understand it himself. 

 Shouts, and pops like firecrackers that the twins continually set off interrupted Bill's thoughts. Molly suddenly snapped out of starring into space, and, with one swift look at her children, stood quickly.  

"Come on. Now," she snapped, hurrying out of the kitchen, up the stairs.  She waited while her sons quickly followed her, and passed her on the stairs, the shouts from outside getting louder.  "Hurry!" Molly urged them.   They ran up the stairs, no longer cautious or quiet.  All five boys that were able scurried up the steps, their mother clutching young Virginia close behind.  They knew nothing of what was outside the house or below them, but they heard the panic in their mother's voice, and took heed.  They ran for all they were worth.  

Arthur had crept to the door, trying desperately to see what had made the crash.  He looked out the windows on the sides, still unable to see anything but darkness.  He cursed silently, and made his way as quietly as possible out to the front porch.  The boundaries on the spell reached to the end of the porch, and Arthur sincerely hoped that whatever had made the very large crash was nothing to worry about.  

His hopes were dashed, when, inspecting the whole of the wrap around porch, wand outstretched, he turned the last corner to face a group of three or four men, all dressed in black as night robes, and all equipped with white masks.  

Arthur cursed loudly, and sent the first hex that came to mind at the group.  The four Death Eaters whipped around, and moved towards the lone wizard.  He expertly dodged many of the curses that were thrown at him, and sent a good many to the Death Eaters themselves.  Arthur shouted at his family to hide, but he knew it was futile.  They could hear nothing of went on outside, most likely.  A small part of his mind that wasn't trying to fight the Death Eaters in front of him was calmly noting that these men were not trying to kill him.  None of the curses sent were killers, or even Unforgivables.  Why wouldn't they just finish me, he mused, unless they were stalling…

His stomach fell, and he knew that this had all been set up.  While he wasted his time with petty Death eaters his wife and children were inside, defenseless. They were stalling, until their master arrived, or keeping him busy while his family was killed inside.  Arthur, still throwing and dodging curses, his mind acting lightning fast, knew he had to get away from the distraction.  He ducked behind a loveseat on the porch, and felt in his pockets for anything useful.  

He groped about for a moment before he pulled out… fireworks?  Of course, he remembered.  He had taken them from Fred and George this morning.  Perfect.  

He muttered a hurried spell, and threw them behind his head, at what he hoped was the Death Eaters.  When he heard the familiar pops and smelt the smoke, he ran for the door of the house.  He raced into the back door, only to find three more black robed figures hurrying through his house, the only lights visible were pinpricks from wands.  

Arthur, not bothering with thinking, quickly stunned one man, and ran from the other two.  He made his way into the kitchen, praying his family would be alive.  

Before he made it three steps, a boom went thought the air, and the house itself shuddered. Arthur staggered a few steps, looking around wildly for the source of the great disturbance. He turned around, and did not like what he saw.

A whole side of his house was missing, the wall gone in a cloud of smoke.  In a few seconds of silence, the smoke parted, and the form of pure evil walked through where the door had been.  

Arthur stood his ground, terrified.  The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort himself, was walking towards him, through his own house.  He was tall, and his night black hair fell around his shoulders menacingly. He walked slowly toward the Weasley, all the while smiling sinisterly, blood-red eyes gleaming in hatred and mirth.  

Arthur shuddered, and held his wand high. He prayed his family had gotten upstairs.  

_But what good will that do now_, a sinister voice inside his head taunted.  Arthur was unsure whether it was his own condescending conscience, or the Dark Lord in front of him, playing with his very thoughts.  It was a matter he did not bother to contemplate at the moment.  

All hope is surely lost.

Arthur backed up, until his back hit the living room wall, never once taking his eyes off the man I _(?) _towering above him.  

"Arrthurr…" Voldemort purred. It was a chilling sound, and Arthur suppressed another shudder, and looked the demon square in the eye. He would not go down without a fight.

"You will not harm my family while I am alive, you monster!" this valiant attempt at bravery in the face of terror did not go unnoticed. 

The man, or whatever he was, before him smiled.  "That can be arranged, my dear man," The Dark Lord said, and behind him his ring of masked men let small laughs escape them.     

Arthur felt his face pale.  He would not survive the night: of this he was certain. 

"You wont get away with this," Arthur snarled. He was through being polite.  If he could possibly stall the demon long enough, possibly his family would be able to escape.  It was a small hope in the despairing man's head, but it gave him strength to continue to bait a monster.

"I don't mean to," the demon answered, and in that moment, Arthur felt a new feeling wash over his body.  Terror. A new kind, not for himself, or even his family, but the world as a whole.  The Dark Lord would kill him, his wife and children, and the world would know it, yet do nothing to stop the demon.  The world around them was crumbling, and it seemed that there was little or no hope left.  

"What do you get from all this," the young redhead asked viscously.  "You must see you are fouling the world with your evil schemes.  When all the muggles in the world are gone, all you'll have left is ruins."  He cared not that the glint of malice was growing in his opponents mind. He knew in his heart that not one member of his family would survive, and it gave him a desperate, crazed approach to the evil before him.  Some remote, still-rational part of his mind wondered if this was what going insane was like. 

 The blood-red eyes before him snapped together and gave such a condescending look that any sane man would have quailed, but the Gryffindor alumni stood, proud and brave in the face of death.  

"Go. To. Hell!" he shouted at the Dark Lord, moments before the demon whipped out a long, slender rod of wood, and shouted the arcane words of force at the Arthur Weasley.  

Avada Kedavra! 

A rushing of wind, a flash of green, and the redheaded man in question was on the floor, a crazed smile on his lips, his eyes forever open.  

The man that towered above the figure grinned, and turned to the recruits in black behind him.  

"Now, lets go and play," He turned out of the shambled living room, and walked menacingly to the rickety stairs of the old house, a broad and very deranged smile on his face.  The men in black came behind him, grinning, and giving looks of glee between the masked horrors. 

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A/n:  well?  Next chapter will be Molly and the kids, I swear.    *Grins Evilly*   Please send any comments, questions, and flames to my personal secretary, the review box. And I swear, I'm going to try and post more regularly.  I have great plans for this story. 


	6. Death?

Flipped

Chapter Six

Death?

*

Disclaimer: obviously, I do not own HP and Co.   Obviously, those who **do **own said businesses should learn that.  And get back to writing….    Okay…  not that im bitter or anything… nooo, not at all…   JKR owns HP guys,  and if she wants to keep it that way,  shell hurry and get writing….    Anywayz, on with my pointless banter of a fanfic..  Tootles!

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"Hurry," 

The urgent voice of their worried mother prodded the frightened children to move quickly up the stairs.  They shot each other terrified glances occasionally the noises, pops, shouts and bangs from downstairs thundering in their ears.  

Five red heads, two carrying a smaller red head, hurried ahead of their mother up to the top of the rickety house, into Bill and Charlie's room.  Molly shooed her children in, and turned last to shut the door firmly behind her.  A muttered spell provided little comfort, but she cast it all the same. As she turned to look at her fearful children, she set her face to show none of the terror that she felt.  It would not do to frighten the boys further. 

Her façade however, was only that: a shallow mask, which did nothing to hide her feeling to her too-receptive children.  The panic and fear that she struggled with was evident by her face, posture and presence. The boys around her, and Ginny in Bill's arms, contrarily, seemed to be comforted by this rather than scared farther.   

"Mom-"

"Hush, Charlie" Molly whispered, cutting off any conversation. It was foolish to think they would be safe here, waiting for someone to come and finish them, but she could think of nothing else.  They had not planned for this.  _He_ was never supposed to be able to have broken the wards in the first place. 

She shook al these thoughts from her head however, when she heard the whimper from one of her sons.  She focused on them once more, and noticed the tears flowing freely down Fred and George's faces; the fear and confusion on Charlie's; the simple unhappiness of the baby Ginny; and the calm, tolerated terror on Bill's face that pained Molly more than anything else.  He knew what awaited them. He knew it was hopeless, and that robbery of her son's innocence wounded her far more than any curse could. 

They are all just babies, her mind wailed.  They don't deserve this. 

She knelt down, holding her arms out shakily.   

"Come here," she murmured, tears falling down her own face now.  Five boys shuffled forward, clutching at their mother desperately.  "I love you all, you know that right?" she asked, not expecting, not wanting, and answer.  

She never found out if she was to receive one.  

At that moment, a resounding 'BOOM' split through the house, shaking the foundation, and causing the small tower to sway slightly.  

Molly stood suddenly, looking fearfully at the door that blocked access to their small hide out.  Shouts could be heard from downstairs, and molly was not sure she wanted to be able to distinguish the words.  Her husband was down there now, dealing with what?  How much time would they have before _he_ inevitably came.  Their time could very well be running short. 

And then, it came to her.

"Charlie?  Bill?" she whispered, her eyes still on the door.

"Yeah, mum?" they whispered back, small frightened voices quivering.

"Where are your brooms?"

Understanding dawned on her oldest boys' faces.  They hurriedly ran to the closet, yanking it open and pulling out their used brooms.  With any luck, Molly thought, they would promise to be an ample investment of a Christmas present.  

"Hurry, mount them boys," she was still whispering, not trusting her voice not to shake.  "Bill, ride with Ginny and Fred.  Charlie, with Percy and George and Ron.  Hurry, now."

"Mum-"

"No questions Charlie, please?"

"But mum-"

"Charlie!" she desperately took her gaze away from the door to glare at her son.

"Ron's not here."

The simple statement made Molly stare for a second, then perform a rapid head count. Five, six including Ginny.  Five.  Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny, but not Ron.  No short, grinning toddler that she had thought was in hand of one of his older brothers.  No Ron. 

"Where is your brother?" she demanded in a shrill whisper.  Bill opened his mouth, guilt etched into his face, when he was cut off by the sound of creaking, the noises that the old steps in the Burrow made when someone walked up them.  

All seven people in the room froze.  

"Never mind, it's not your fault," she told Bill.  She hurried the boys to the window, ignoring their small protests.  "Get on your brooms and fly, boys.  Fly as far as you can; don't worry about muggles or anything, just fly."  She gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile.  From their small, returning smiles, it seemed to have done some good, and Molly was strangely reassured.  

"By mum," Bill sniffed, and hugged his mother tightly before climbing to the windowsill, and urging Fred, now holding Ginny, up with him.  Molly hugged each of her sons quickly, and gave Ginny a kiss on the forehead.  She would never see them again, she was sure. She prayed to whatever powers were listening that they would get away safely. When Charlie, Percy and George we on the windowsill as well, Molly gave them all her last peace of advice.  

"Don't look back boys,"

Bill took off, his broom dropping slightly and then popping back up to fly higher than the roof of the house.  Charlie was next, his Quidditch skills churning as he took off out the window, his broom dropping even further than Bill's had before he caught control of it, and zoomed away to join his brother.  Molly said another short prayer, then turned around, and hurried out the door, slipping quietly into the hallway.

She needed to find Ron.  

Where would he have gone, her mind raced.  The answer presented itself immediately.  Ron was always happiest in his bedroom that he shared with his brothers.  He loved his playpen and his toys, he always had. 

Molly rushed down the stairs as fast as she dared, trying to not make any noise.  The landing to Ron's room was just two flights down…  When she heard whispering coming from the turn right in front of her, one flight from Ron's room, she knew she was too late.  She had met the monster halfway.  Her last thought, as she continued to rush down the stairs, was that she was glad that her children got away, and prayed a final time that Ron would be all right.

She stumbled down the last few stairs, momentum carrying her farther than she had intended.  The middle-aged mother nearly ran into the wall opposite her, and when she was able to regain her footing and look up, she was staring into two red orbs.  

Molly Weasley screamed, and then collapsed, as the owner of the red orbs whipped up his wand, and shouted dark words of power.  The mother of seven lay on the stairs, staring blankly into oblivion.  

"Fool of a woman," Voldemort spat, starring at her from above.  He grinned maliciously, before turning to some of the men behind him.  "Find the children. Outside, I believe, they are."

They nodded, and turned to hurry downstairs and outside. 

When Bill and Charlie had taken off, they had not gotten very far when Bill's broom began to descend, shakily at first, but sharper by the second.  Bill, afraid of flying, unlike his younger brother, panicked, and before either boy knew it, Bill, Fred and Ginny were careening headlong into the Burrow's garden.  

Charlie, seeing their trouble from above, called out too late, and watched as his brothers and sister crashed into a Kekaro bush.  

"We have to help them!" George shouted, feeling in his chest the pain that he knew meant Fred was hurt.  Charlie, pausing for only a second to consider his mother's warnings, followed Bill, and landed the three next to Bill and Fred, albeit a safer landing than Bill's had been.  

"Charlie! Mum told up not to stop," Percy whined from behind him, his young face giving away his fears.  Charlie turning to Percy to tell him off, looked behind his brother instead, at their house, and Percy saw his face pale.  Before he could ask his brother the obvious question, George had rushed foreword, to where Bill and Fred were lying.  

"Fred!" he called, his small voice pain-filled.  Charlie, turning from the house, hurried to his brothers' side, Percy following, not looking back; he remembered his mother's warning. 

Percy, watching George go to Fred, knowing where he was with his uncanny twin psychic, and Charlie running to help Bill, frantically searched for their sister, Ginny.  Of all his siblings, Ginny was the one he felt the most connected with, and he was desperate at what happened to her in the crash.  He didn't have to look far.

The bundle of blankets that Molly had wrapped her in was lying in the dirt, a few feet from Bill and Fred, Percy unsteadily ran to her side, dreading what he would find, and not able to not look. His morbid curiosity would not rest, and he slowly picked up the bundle, fearing the worst.  

When he shifted the bundle, to Percy Weasley's great surprise, it gave a small lurch, and began wailing.  Ginny had always had the most powerful lungs.  He smiled, and started back towards his brothers, carefully carrying the precious bundle.  

When Charlie got to Bill's side, he knew it was worse than he had thought.  Bill was trying for all he was worth to get up, but he looked to be in so much pain that Charlie was afraid for his older brother.  "Stay still," he scolded him, remembering his mother's orders whenever one of the boys had gotten hurt.  

Bill started at his voice, terror filling his eyes when he recognized his brother.  

"Get out of here!  Why did you land?  Get away! Take them all and Hurry! GO!" 

Bill's shouting did little good.  As George helped Fred out of a bush, Fred cradling his arm, which hung at an odd angle, Charlie was aware of many tall somethings surrounding them, all with black robes, white masks, and wands.  

All the boys present began shaking, and little Ginny continued to cry, Percy doing his best to quiet her.  

Fred and George, old enough to understand what was happening, grasped hands, and reached for a brother's hand.  Charlie and Bill, sitting in the grass beside them, realized what the small boys wanted, and Bill took Fred's good hand, clasping Charlie's in his other.  George held Fred's arm, and clasped Percy's hand next to him, who held Ginny carefully.  The link created by the siblings whispered with unseen power, anger, and fear.  

As one, the five boys thought of one thought together.  The one thing they all desired at the moment.  Safety. The whole family, together, safe.  

No words were whispered, but a shimmering, not-quite-light radiated from the children encircled by the Death Eaters.  

It lasted only a moment, before, also as one, each of the Death Eaters raised their wands, and shouted the darkest curse at the unarmed children.  Six shouts of inhuman, evil words.  Six streaks of green death rushing to claim their poor victims.  Six small thuds as the minute bodies hit the ground.  

The Black robed men seemed to think nothing of their sin, and one came forward slowly to look at the bodies.  He counted, and paused over the last.  He stood, unsure for a moment, and then strode back to the house, the rest following behind him, none looking back to see the atrocities he had caused.

Voldemort had not been idle while his servants took care of the last of the Weasley line.  He stood in the tiny hallway, muttering arcane words that no one understood, and any Death Eater listening unconsciously turned away from.  

The Dark Lord seemed to be in a trance, and in a few moments of confusion, where his servants got quite afraid, he seemed to figure something out.  He snapped his head up, a gleam of malice making its way into his chilling, blood red eyes.  He turned, and walked slowly down the stair to the nearest landing.  The door on this floor was closed, and the Dark Lord eased it open, without magic.  

He stepped into the small room, taking in the two small beds on one side and a playpen on the other. It was dark, before the Dark Lord raised his arm, and light flooded the room from his palm. 

A whimper from the corner drew his attention, and Voldemort grinned.  He strode to the corner of the room with a playpen, and leaned maliciously over it to see the other side.

"Hello, my dear boy," he crooned, making the small, redheaded toddler before him shiver.  

"Gah," the young boy stated shortly, holding out a closed fist.  He whimpered again, seeing the scary man in front of him smile again.  He didn't like that.  It made him scared.  

Voldemort, ignoring the babe's outstretched hand, drew his wand, for a final time.  He pointed at the small child, and smiled outright.

"The last, I daresay, of a pathetic and ruined line."  He began to laugh, a chilling, booming bark, that made the already unsteady house shiver.  Ron, before him, began to cry silently, his large, blue eyes staring at the man before him.  

Voldemort raised his wand, and, at the same moment, Ronald closed his eyes, wishing in his small heart for his family.  And Safety.  As the remaining Death Eaters returned to the house, Voldemort bore his arm down to the child, and shouted the curse he was famous for.  

A speeding green light, but before that, a golden aura, that blinded all watching, and enveloped a small child and a Dark Lord.  The rush of Death, unto the least-suspecting victim, and an explosion that caused the entire house to fall to ruins.  

Many miles away, in a dark and protected castle, an old man jerked awake, feeling a release in power in this world that he had not felt in a long while.  

A/N:  well?  Please review, and tell me what I need to work on.  TY.


	7. The Twinkle

Flipped  
  
Chapter Seven: The Twinkle  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, which might belong to a few of the voices in my head, but I'm not totally positive on that yet. Well, I suppose I will know when my voices start to sue me for plagiarism.  
  
A/N: um.. I don't know if no one likes this anymore, or if just no one bothered to review. but its very disheartening to get no reviews for a story. not that I'm begging.. I would just like sum feedback. thanks all who reviewed in previous chapters, if not for chapter 6. Now, on with the torture, erm, story. Hehe.  
  
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Albus Dumbledore sat up quickly in bed, gasping for breath that would not come for many minutes. While he waited for his old lungs to stop heaving, his mind, sharp as ever in his old age, whirled. A jolt in power had awoken him, feeding into his brain and screaming, a terrible breath-taking scream that no human should have to hear in a lifetime. That screaming had been felt by the wise old man as many power sources, coming together as one and bursting forth as one large energy mass. The jolt was felt by the headmaster's keen senses, but he doubted anyone else had felt it. He wondered for a moment what it could have been, many dire situations coming to mind.  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment, reviving a connection he had left dead for many years. The connection was dangerous to have, and the one connected to him must never know. The Headmaster of the school did not often open the connection willfully, but at the moment, he felt it was needed. After a few moments, where sweat appeared on the old man's face, and he appeared straining to reach something just out of grasp, the old man open his eyes wide in shock, and promptly fell out of his grand four poster bed.  
  
With some grumbling, he picked himself up, elderly joints groaning in protest. He frowned, and hurried to his door, pausing only long enough to wave his wand and acquire clothes and a robe. He rushed out of his rooms, muttering under his breath hurriedly.  
  
"Minerva," whispered a voice in a sleeping woman's ear. "Minerva, you are needed." The transfigurations professor awoke with a start, and looked wildly around her for the source of the voice. "Minerva," it stated again, a bit impatiently this time.  
  
"Yes, Albus?" she answered, recognizing it at last. She didn't question his ability to hear her any more than he questioned her ability to hear him. She waited expectantly for the headmaster to state why he had woken her up at, she checked her watch, one o' clock in the morning.  
  
"I need your help, please, Minerva. Meet me outside the Great Hall, please." Minerva nodded sharply, and the invisible connection to the headmaster faded. She quickly cast the spell to acquire clothes and an outer robe, and rushed out the door of her rooms and into the long and twisting corridors of Hogwarts. With the students gone for the summer, it seemed unnaturally devoid of life, even at night, when the children were supposed to be sleeping. Habit made her senses sharp and alert anyway, scanning halls and darkened corners for hiding students out of bed, though her conscious mind told her that none would be there.  
  
These senses also alerted her to another presence in the hall around the bend. She continued quickly, wondering who cold be out this late at night, conveniently forgetting that she herself was out late as well. She was ever so surprised when she tunred the corner, half-expecting to come face to face with a Death Eater or the Headmaster, and saw no one, at first. She then looked down a bit, and saw the miniature Professor Flitwick, the Charms Professor.  
  
"Good evening, Filius," she said sternly, then adding, as an afterthought, "What are you doing out so late?"  
  
"I don't rightly know, Minerva," the stout professor answered squeakily. "Urgent news, apparently. Dumbledore called me." Minerva straightened.  
  
"Then I suggest we both hurry to the Great Hall. He'll be waiting." Without another word the two professors headed downstairs to the Entrance Hall. They paused only long enough to wonder where their headmaster was, when he appeared on their left, looking grim.  
  
"Thank you both for coming. We need to hurry outside the grounds. We need to apparate."  
  
"with respect headmaster, where are we apparating?" asked the short wizard curiously.  
  
The headmaster looked at him for a moment before replying.  
  
"The Burrow, home of the Weasley's."  
  
With these short words he turned on his heel and walked out the great oak doors. Both professors behind him allowed themselves only a confused looked passed, and swiftly followed the headmaster with one thought between them:  
  
This could not be good.  
  
  
  
The three professors appeared out of thin air, as if from the ground itself, many miles away, and found themselves standing in what looked like a war zone.  
  
The ground was littered with tattered and broken pieces of wood, smoldering ruins in what had probably once been a happy home. The two teachers looked shocked, the headmaster grave.  
  
"Albus-" Minerva whispered, but Dumbledore cut her off.  
  
"I am afraid there is little we can do to help them now." He looked odd, she thought for a moment, but couldn't place what was off about the old man. She didn't have time to ponder it, as the headmaster shook his head, and turned and headed towards a group of Aurors that were gathered at one corner of the once house.  
  
Minerva followed him, and Filius, the aging Charms professor, followed her, stopping periodically to look at some artifact in the ruble that was the house. As the headmaster arrived in the group of Aurors, he nodded politely to acknowledge them.  
  
"Evening," he told them, his severe tone settling around them palpably. The Aurors nodded respectfully, and began to tell the headmaster what they believed to have transpired.  
  
Minerva, watching the headmaster closely, realized with a start what was wrong with him. His eyes. His face wore a grim expression, but that was to be expected in such times. His mouth was a firm frown, almost sad in some ways, but his eyes were what Minerva found truly disturbing. They were a dull, damp pewter, with not an ounce of the usual merry twinkle that presided in them. Minerva had sent eh twinkle disappear before, in the fury that played out on the powerful wizard's face once in a great while. That look of pure hatred and seething fury was seen by few, but all cowered before it. But that was not what the headmaster's face was now.  
  
Now, the old man looked just that. Truly aging, and his eyes betrayed that weariness. They were neither full of a twinkle, nor barely controlled rage, but a dead, lifeless color, and the simple effect left the transfigurations professor horrified at the change in her colleague.  
  
While the headmaster was conversing with the ministry officials, and Minerva was hovering over his shoulder, listening in, Filius, curious as always, studied the remnants of the house. He saw the glitter of magic as it appeared to him, a master in charms, and frowned at the ground, as if trying to decipher a very hard puzzle. He muttered once or twice to himself, and continued through the large ruble and gravel. He saw the glitter of magic in the kitchen, where the Mrs. Weasley had most likely been cooking with all sorts of spells and charms. He smiled ruefully. She always had been excellent in his classes.  
  
He continued, to the other rooms of what he assumed had been their house, observing the shattered wood and brass of an old family clock, and the large lump that could only be once used furniture. He looked slightly into what he assumed had been the living room, making out the dusty pile of bricks that had been the family fireplace and entrance to the Floo network. He shook his small head as he turned form this, to search the rest of the house. He couldn't say what he was searching for, but something called to him, to scour the remnants closely, leaving nothing unobserved. When he turned to the wing that had held bedrooms, he let escape a small gasp.  
  
In his eyes- eyes that normally saw magic as a flicker or twinkle- one room of the bedrooms flared, undying and bright as a star close up. He rushed into the mess, overturning debris and clutters of who-knew-what. He reached the light just as it dimmed slightly. He wondered what it could be for a moment, and if it was possibly dangerous, but disregarded these thoughts. The feeling emitting from the light in front of him spoke to the small teacher of peace, safety, and reminded him of his long forgotten family, sitting together by the fire.  
  
He approached the last few feet slowly, looking at the ground hard for the source. When he was practically on top of, or inside, the light, he bent down, and let his magical sense take over for his eyes.  
  
The thing emitting this aura was right there, in front of him, under that pile of tattered blankets and plastic. The professor opened his eyes again, and quickly dug into the ruble, searching carefully, but frantically. Finally, he overturned what appeared to be part of a bed, and upended it roughly to see what was underneath, and gasped again.  
  
Blue eyes stared back at him, glittering peacefully from a dirty, minute face. Red hair struggled with soot and ash, leaving the result a mass of messy, partly flaming, partly grey and powdery hair. His face was dirty, covered in streaks of soot and dirt, but he seemed to be alive.  
  
Flitwick stared, not daring to move, for fear the illusion of a child would fade, leaving the horror of death in its' wake. But the child, toddler, really, judging by the baby fat still evident in his face, was stoic, with only his eyes moving, following the short wizard brightly. Flitwick, his mouth hanging open, could only wonder, when the small boy began to whimper. He struggled, and that snapped the professor out of his reverie.  
  
"Dumbledore!" he shouted, while moving to remove more of the debris from the boy's frame. He seemed to be pinned underneath something, and Flitwick had to shove a particularly heavy something out of the way before the small boy was free.  
  
By this time, Dumbledore had traveled the distance halfway between where he had been and Flitwick, and the younger wizard called again.  
  
"Hurry Dumbledore! You've got to come see!" He gently picked up the child and stood up. There was a collective gasp from all watching, and Dumbledore himself staggered at the sight of the boy in the small Charms Professor's arms. The young boy smiled at this reaction, devouring the attention. Some part of Flitwick's mind laughed at that, as the small boy probably never got attention centered on him in his home. This thought also brought tears to the professor's eyes, as it was undoubtedly clear that the rest of this young boy's family would never be able to not pay attention to the boy again.  
  
Just then, interrupting the professor's deep thoughts, Dumbledore came up to him, eyes wide, and mouth slightly open. This, along with everything else that the Charms Professor had seen that night, added to the surrealism of it all. Dumbledore was never surprised. Flitwick had never seen it happen before. But here he was, the headmaster of Hogwarts, most powerful wizard in existence, speechless at the sight of a small boy who should defiantly have not been here.  
  
"Ronald?" Dumbledore said, amazedly. The boy bounced happily in Flitwick's arms, rewarding the headmaster with an angelic smile. The headmaster, seemingly aware of his surroundings for the first time, let his eyes travel around to the Aurors, to Professor McGonagall, who stared as well, to stare at Flitwick himself.  
  
"How did you know, Filius?" Dumbledore asked, getting his grip, and no longer looking quite so amazed at the presence of a toddler in a war zone.  
  
"I-I don't know, Headmaster. I simply knew to look around, and saw his aura. It was brighter than I have ever seen, but it faded eventually." And indeed the aura had faded, the light bleeding off in Flitwick's magical vision until it was the normal steady glow that all wizards and witches carried. Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but nodded, and said nothing of Flitwick's story then.  
  
"Interesting," he muttered, and moved to take the babe from Flitwick's arms. Young Ronald, it seemed was his name, bounced happily in Dumbledore's arms, looking at all of the people staring at him. It seemed to be unnerving, for the child began to whimper again. He hid his face in Dumbledore's robes, to the amusement of the rest of the onlookers. A few of the Aurors produced chuckles, and McGonagall's lip twitched, the closest she ever got to a real smile these days. But the gravity of the situation prevailed, and they soon caught themselves.  
  
Dumbledore simply stood and starred, pondering the puzzles in his extraordinary mind. For a moment, all present simply starred at the three figures. The headmaster, the child in his arms, and the serene looking Charms Professor. It seemed surreal. Most defiantly surreal.  
  
But before long, that headmaster seemed to work out, or simply give up whatever he had been pondering, and turned to the others.  
  
"It seems a miracle has happened, my friends. I know not how, exactly, or why, but this child survived one of the attacks of the most feared dark wizard of the times. And though the Weasleys, a prominent and loved family in the wizarding world is gone, all but one, who is alive to tell the tale of an attack of Voldemort. Well," he amended thoughtfully, ignoring the cringes at the mention of the name, "maybe alive to tell it, but not able." His lips gave a slight twitch, as if he wanted to smile, but held himself back. But he continued, "but it seems to me, and I have had it confirmed, that this most feared dark lord is, to put it quite simply, gone."  
  
This statement seemed to shake the young and old Aurors present, and they all began talking at once, questioning and shouting at the headmaster.  
  
They stopped, however, when Dumbledore held up one slender hand. "Please, I cannot answer your questions as of now, but let me assure you, I am not wrong in this assessment. The Dark Lord is gone, and I believe this boy," he gestured gently to Ronald, whose face was still hidden in the folds of his cloak, "I believe Ronald is the cause of his disappearance."  
  
This statement, contradicting to the last one, produced a stunned silence. The idea that a boy, a toddler, with no extraordinary powers seen, could defeat a wizard that had been terrorizing Britain for fourteen years now, was ludicrous to these top ministry Aurors, of course. But if Dumbledore stood behind it so steadfastly, how could it be myth. And the Dark Lord, gone? Could it be possible?  
  
Dumbledore smiled at them all knowingly, and began to move off with the child still in his arms. Flitwick, forgotten, until now, had been thinking the entire time, and spoke now, to the surprise of the ministry workers in front of him.  
  
"Dumbledore," he called squeakily, and the headmaster turned to stare at him. "What will you do with the child? Does he have a family to go to?" Flitwick seemed unnaturally concerned with this, and stared hard at the headmaster until Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"I will speak of this with you later, dear Filius," he answered, a smile in his voice, if not on his face. At this, he turned toward the Aurors, face alight with mystery and happiness, to those who knew him well enough to detect it. "Please," he told them, giving a small smile finally, "go back to the ministry and tell them what I have told you, and what you have seen here. They will be able to confirm it for you: for the world, shortly."  
  
With that, he nodded to his two professors, who noted with glee that the headmaster's eyes had a slight twinkle back to them.  
  
And the three professors, the headmaster with the child still asleep in his arms, apparated to the well-known safe haven of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
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Well? Please review and tell me what you think, I really need the feedback, and the support.. That is all. Thank you.  
  
To my loyal reviewers:  
  
Ryuuko Megami: thank you for the originality comment, I try to get all my stories really original. I loathe clichés!!  
  
Kathy: I luv ron too!!! He's my total fave, especially since the 2nd movie.. hes so funny in it! and I always like to write in a diff pov, makes the story interesting!!  
  
Leanne: well, here's more, can you handle it?? ;)  
  
Lily of the Valley: I hope it hasn't come into too many ppls minds. I thought I owned the plot.. sorta. oh well. Too late now, I suppose! :D lol.  
  
RedVampirySlayer)Dev.HunterS: I kno rons family is poor, but I tried to make it realistic as well. they would at least get sum gifts. I assume your talking about the brooms and stuff. well, Arthur and molly saved for a long time to be able to buy that stuff. but if its sumthing else, please don't hesitate to tell me in a review!  
  
Everyone else who reviewed. I think I covered everyone who reviewed since august, but feel free to review now (*hinthint*) and ill get back to ya!! Thanks to all reviewers, beta, and muses.. Yes, even my muses, who struck me at odd hours, (such as three am, or in math class. hehe, math is boring anyway, having raving lunatics in my head screaming to start writing stories just makes it more interesting!) and everyone who gave encouragement on this story! And don't worry, its not even nearly over!!!! *grins* Tootles all! LkoK  
  
Next chappy: Ron and what they will do with him (ie, where hes gonna go!!! ) thanks again all! 


	8. The Fate of the Young

Flipped  
  
Chapter Eight: The Fate of the Young  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of Harry Potter or affiliates. These belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros. and a bunch of other people.  
  
And, so, without further ado, on with the show.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Ronald Weasley was, for possibly the longest period of his life, the center of attention. With all of about a year and a half of being always a few paces behind his older brothers, he was currently reveling in this newfound attention.  
  
But below the surface, those adults around him could see sadness in the innocent child's eyes. Those cerulean blue eyes that held so much wonder when alight, and then so much pain, it seemed, at odd times, when the babe would go silent, and look for all the world like a lost orphan. And he was.  
  
Those adults around him tried their best to keep the child entertained for his short duration at the school, but he still seemed distant. Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, with his charms professor, Filius Flitwick, sitting in front of him, the youngest Weasley bouncing on his knee.  
  
Flitwick, in the few hours that Ronald had spent at Hogwarts, seemed the most successful at drawing the toddler's attention, and making him giggle. The Headmaster watched the scene with that slight tinkle in his eye, though his face was devoid of a smile of any kind. He watched the charms professor play games with the child, peek-a-boo, and got-your-neb, until the tot started to yawn, and began to fall asleep in the small professor's arms. Dumbledore was slightly amused.  
  
"You seem to have a knack with the child, Filius," he said softly, as he watched the charms professor watching the baby.  
  
The younger man blushed slightly. "I don't know, Albus. He's such a cute tyke."  
  
Indeed, the child now looked like a fiery angle, his red locks almost covering his now angelic, albeit asleep, face. Dumbledore chuckled, and nodded.  
  
"Yes, yes, Filius. That he is," he told the professor in front of him, eyes full of mirth.  
  
"Dumbledore?" the charms professor began slowly. "I was wondering, I asked you a question this morning. What we were going to do with the boy." The younger professor now looked at his old teacher with a careful gaze, eyes betraying his nervousness.  
  
Dumbledore, for his part, seemed to be enjoying his colleague's uncomfortable situation. "What, dear Professor, would you have me do with the child?" He gave a small, mysterious smile to the squirming man in front of him.  
  
"Well, Albus. It seems to me, well." Filius seemed to want to ask an important question, and Dumbledore, being the slightly senile, horribly ruthless man he was, let the charms professor squirm for a little while longer.  
  
"Well, see, my sister, dear woman, had a small cottage outside Winchester, away from muggles and wizards alike, very secluded, beautiful countryside, and I was wondering, since the boy has no other family that you can find, and he. well, as you said he has taken a liking to me. And I, well, I could help my sister on weekends, and during the holidays." Filius looked at the headmaster almost pleadingly.  
  
Finally Dumbledore broke. He laughed outright, and stood. "Dear Filius, all you had to do was ask. I had wondered what to do with young Ronald here, until I saw how much he had taken a certain liking to you." The professor in front of him looked torn between relief and annoyance at the headmaster, but Dumbledore took no notice, and continued. "I would like to see the house, and put a few protective charms around the borders, but I believe, dear professor, that your idea is wonderful."  
  
Relief took over on the small professor's face, and he thanked the headmaster profusely, before heading out with the still asleep young Ronald.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled at the folly of the young, or younger than him, for a moment. The bond between the toddler and the charms professor was evident, and Dumbledore, for one, was glad that the child could bond with anyone right now. Young Ronald had been through a traumatic experience, and even though he was too young to remember it, it would still be better for him to be around one he could be comfortable with.  
  
But with that thought, the headmaster's heart sank. This would not have happened had they not stumbled in their spells in some way. A family of eight had been destroyed; a family that he had come to love over the years. Molly and Arthur had been come of his favorite Gryffindors when they were at school, and he had kept in contact with them when they had graduated. The young couple had been loved by many in the wizarding world. Arthur, with his constant love for muggles, was a great asset for the ministry of magic. He was an aspiring assistant director of the Misuse of Muggle artifacts. Molly had had many friends throughout Britain, whom she had kept in close contact with after her school days.  
  
The two boys who had attended Hogwarts, Bill and Charlie, were blessings as well. Charlie was a superb Quidditch player. He had made the House team when he was only in second year. Bill had been an excellent student, the top of all his classes. He loved ancient Runes, and both of the boys had been good friends with Hagrid, the gamekeeper at the school.  
  
The Weasleys would be a sorely missed family in the British Wizarding World.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. Their funeral was tomorrow. Half of Britain was supposed to come; those who missed the Weasleys, and those who wanted to see the famed 'Boy-who-lived', or so they were calling young Ronald now.  
  
Voldemort, the darkest wizard that the world had yet known, was defeated by a year and a half year old boy, and the world was extremely curious to see what extraordinary powers this child had to posses. Some were telling anyone who would listen that the child hadn't really killed the Dark Lord, but sucked him into his soul. Still others were shouting that the child had used ancient magic taught to him by ghosts to kill He-who-must-not-be- named. The tale that Dumbledore himself didn't know how the young Weasley did it was particularly engaging to gossipers. So, while rumors were flying, Dumbledore was anxious to get Ronald to a home where he would not have to deal with the press and sightseers. The young child was traumatized enough. There was no need to add gawking people to stare at him.  
  
And then there was the question of the child's abnormal scar. When they had pulled the boy out of the rubble, no one had noticed the small cut on the side of the boy's head, right next to his left eye. It was a small, jagged lightning bolt, and try and Madam Pomfrey might, she had not been able to make it heal so there wouldn't be any scar.  
  
Dumbledore found the scar very interesting, and he explained to the quite putout nurse that perhaps it was for the better that the boy keep the scar. After all, he had told her, he himself had a very entertaining one on his knee that resembled the London Underground. Madam Pomfrey, although staring at the headmaster oddly, complied, and ceased attempting to magic the cut away, and juts put a gauze pad on the wound.  
  
So, now the Headmaster of Hogwarts School stood in his office, looking out onto the grounds of his school, and wondering what was special about the boy. How had the child survived what Dumbledore was sure was the killing curse, for Madam Pomfrey had found traces of the darkest magic on the boy. It was a puzzle for another day, he told himself resolutely, as he moved away form the window. One he would have to spend many days trying to figure out, and even then he wasn't sure if they would ever know.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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"I am telling you all, right now, that Voldemort is gone, as of now. Whether he will return in the future, or we will never be tormented by his cruelty and malice again, I know not. When it came to Divination, as I say, I was always a great card player."  
  
The men in the stuffy room chuckled gently before settling back into a curious silence. The Ministry of Magic, in the chaos that had ensued after the attack on the Burrow and Dumbledore's claim the Dark Lord that had plagued them for almost twelve years was finally gone, had called an emergency meeting of everyone that worked for the Ministry as of now. The crowd was a tattered one.  
  
Twelve years of fighting demons, vampires, giants, and many other great beasts and evil things that followed Lord Voldemort had left the offices of the Ministry in a dismal count. Aurors were few and far between, standing out in their stark white robes against the blues of the Ministry uniform.  
  
The Aurors that caught Dumbledore's eyes were some of the finest, whom he personally had worked with many times to solve any number of problems.  
  
Alaster "Mad-Eye" Moody was one such man, with his scarred face and hands. He was a stout man, who was loyal to the ministry without any doubt; a wavering quality these days.  
  
And James Potter, with his best friend and partner Sirius Black. Those were some of the last boys Dumbledore had expected to go into Auror training, but they had done well, especially with each other's aid, and had climbed the ranks of Aurors.  
  
Another was Frank and Nancy Longbottom. They were a popular couple Auror team, and Dumbledore was always pleased to see them work together.  
  
Another face that struck him in particular was Bartimus Crouch, the current Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In Dumbledore's opinion, he was a radical, who, while ridding the world of Death Eaters, was also allowing his Aurors privileges of the Unforgivable curses, and punishments with out trials. Not all the Aurors performed these acts, but most of them took advantage when they had to. Even the few that the headmaster admired had sent possibly innocent people into the hands of Dementors.  
  
Other faces sprung out at him from the crowd, as past students of his or those he knew from past dealings with the ministry.  
  
Most of the people here had been shocked to hear that the supposed Dark Lord was gone. But one could hardly deny it. Over the past two days people had been swarming into the ministry office, claiming they had been under the Imperius curse, being used as puppets by Voldemort or his Death Eaters. These were people that had been wanted by the ministry for years, suddenly running to the Aurors that had hunted them and begging for help.  
  
There was no other way that the Ministry could explain it. This, along with Dumbledore's insistence that He-who-must-not-be-named was indeed gone, gave hope to the ministry officials gathered at the meeting.  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster," Mr. Crouch said taking the front of the room to explain how they were going to take back these people who had claimed to be 'set free' at the death of the lord.  
  
The meeting adjourned a few hours later, the officials in the building smiling and cheering for the first time in years. They had to go and spread the word to the world. The Dark Lord was dead. The world was safe.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Three days after the attack on the Burrow, after the world had settled down and the controversy of the famous Boy-who-survived was slightly calmer than before, three wizards made their way to a remote house on the outskirts of the small British town of Winchester.  
  
A very tall, ancient, yet powerful looking old man, a short, but still aged man, and a small toddler, in the short man's arms, looking around wondrously at the beauty of the nature around him, made their way to a small, secluded house, overlooking a lively patch of woods.  
  
The two elder wizards walked up to the house, and the aged one knocked slightly.  
  
A woman opened the door, revealing an old, but comfortable looking house behind her. The woman herself looked about middle age, with only a few grey strands in her long brunette hair that fell about her face, covering her ears, that revealed her true age. She was of normal height for a woman her age, and Dumbledore, smiling softly, wondered if she was really Filius' sister. She wore a simple muggle dress, with a soft floral pattern. She smiled upon seeing her visitors, and opened the door further.  
  
"Filius! How are you? I assume this is Ronald?" She smiled down at the toddler in the shorter man's arms, and the young redhead grinned back. "Do come in, Albus, Filius." She motioned for them to follow and led the way out of the small entry hall and into the sitting room.  
  
The house itself was small, and had an underlying floral touch to it all. But the woman made do with her cramped quarters by adding comfy looking furniture that had a pattern of flowers and vines all over it hear and there, a multitude of picture frames, the occupants of which were waving and smiling at the visitors. There was one tea table in front of the small couch, and an end table in the corner, each adorned with small costars and flowery tea doilies. There was a bookshelf in another corner that seemed to overflow with hundreds of titles. Some seemed to be like normal every day books, like Gardening: the Ease, or History, at your fingertips, but others on the shelf would have baffled the mind. They had titles like The Cultivating of Khanoba Sea Tulips, and Cornate Fighting Flowers. At any rate, anyone who passed through this house would be able to tell the woman obviously loved flowers and all things in the garden.  
  
The two men, however, did not seem disturbed by this at all. In fact, both seemed comforted by it somewhat. Both smiled at the woman, and sat in the floral sofa.  
  
"So," she began, smiling calmly. "This is Ronald? He's such a dear!" She grinned at the boy, and he stared back for a fleeting moment, and then smiled, a childish giggle emitting from his lips. He blew a raspberry at the woman, producing a gracious laugh from her. He struggled against small Filius for a moment, and the aged professor let him down gently to the floral carpeted floor.  
  
Ron walked, waddled really, as he was only eighteen months, towards the woman, smiling gleefully. She opened her arms to the boy, kneeling to be at his general eye level, and when he at last made the great trek between the sofa and where she stood he toppled into her arms, producing a round of giggles form everyone present in the room.  
  
"Well, that was certainly entertaining," Filius stated, smiling broadly, once everyone had settled down and had a cup of tea, young Ron playing with a stuffed slug on the woman's lap, muttering to himself in baby talk. "Albus Dumbledore," Filius said, looking at the older man, "meet my sister, Reyena. Reyena, please meet Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts."  
  
"Pleasure, sir," she smiled at the aged wizard, and continued playing with Ron on the floor, trying to entertain him with putting her hands in front of her face and suddenly moving them, to startle the tot in front of her. Ron, for his part, was vastly amused, sending shrieks of laughter to the rooftops.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at the two, and then at Filius. Somehow, he thought, this child would have a happy home. But he set out to do what he came to do anyway, assume most of the answers to his questions already.  
  
"Tell, me, my dear," he said softly, watching Reyena with twinkling orbs, "why do you want to invite this child into your home? Are you not happy with your life at it is? Surely, a child will only hinder your life?"  
  
She didn't answer the wizard immediately, but continued to give the child on the floor reason to shriek with laughter. When Ron was calmer, she turned to the Headmaster.  
  
"You know, Headmaster, it is a funny thing, life. I myself am not capable of having children. And though I may not look it, I am far older than you are. I am what your society calls an Elf." She swept her long hair back to show her ears, pointed as they were.  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked outright stunned for a moment, and then laughed outright, a smile crawling back to his aged face.  
  
"My dear, I should have guessed." He smiled at her graciously. "Only an Elf could pull off such poise and beauty as you do." The Elf before them looked startled for a moment, before smiling.  
  
"Thank you Albus," she gave him a piercing gaze for a moment, and the wizard before her seemed to sense for the first time her incredible depth of age and wisdom.  
  
But the moment passes, as Reyena turned back to Ron, who had since been occupying himself with inspecting the rug on the hardwood floor. The two seemed to become fast friends, and both wizards that observed the two seemed inexplicably drawn together.  
  
"So, Reyena, if you were to take Ronald in, what would you explain to him?" Dumbledore looked at her quizzically. "What would you have him know about his tragic past, and what would you keep from him?"  
  
Once again, Reyena paused before answering, this time seeming to contemplate the question.  
  
"I believe I would explain to him his being a wizard now, and that he was once part of a great family. I knew the Weasleys, vaguely, from some of the Ministry balls. Very nice people." She smiled sadly at the two men in front of her. "Tragedy, it really was. But the people wont see it as that." She looked down at Ron again.  
  
"The majority of the public will read and hear and talk about the boy-who- survived. They will remember him only for defeating a powerful and fearful Dark wizard. Lord knows how, but this little boy did it. Britain's wizards will not understand that he is also a child, who won't remember it. I believe it would be best to explain his popularity in the wizarding world when he is older, more able to handle that fame, however well deserved. It also might help to curb big-headedness," she said with a small grin.  
  
Dumbledore beamed at her, the twinkle in his eye growing more prominent. "I could not agree more, Reyena. Your majestic wisdom is infallible."  
  
The Elf blushed, and turned once again back to Ron, who was talking to his stuffed toy now.  
  
Filius, silent for most of this interesting meeting, stared at his sister for a moment. Of course, the woman was not his full-blooded sister. The two of them couldn't look any different. Reyena's mother had been an Elf, and a beautiful one, or so he had been told. She had fallen in love with Filius' father, Barius, a half-Elf- his father had been an Elf, and his mother a witch. But the beautiful Elf woman had died giving birth to her daughter, and Filius' father had been heartbroken, with the care until he had met Filius' mother, a few thousand years later. It seemed that while the blood of a wizard had never graced Barius' veins, but lay dormant for him to pass on to his next child. Filius had been the son of a half-Elf and a hobbit, a small creature, about four feet tall. The result of their love was a short man, with pointy, Elf-like ears, and semi-immortal blood running in his veins next to wizard's blood.  
  
It was a situation that would most likely never happen again, and Filius was content to remain the only half-hobbit, quarter-Elf, and quarter-human person walking the very large planet. And add a half-sister who was a few thousand year old three-quarter Elf and Filius was sure he possibly had the most complicated family tree in history.  
  
But they had been happy, his sister and him, when they could spend time together. In the century that Filius had lived, he had gotten to know the woman greatly, and they shared the bond that all brothers and sisters shared: love. And Filius was then not surprised when he saw immediately that his half-sister had fallen in love with the child in front of them.  
  
His reverie was broken however, when Albus suddenly stood from the couch.  
  
"Thank you both," he started, smiling serenely down at Reyena, still playing with Ron, while watching the headmaster out of the corner of her eye, and Filius, who was sitting on the couch contently, his short legs dangling over the edge of the couch so much like a child's it took the headmaster a great deal of control not to burst into laughter. He held it in, though, barely.  
  
"Thank you, Albus," Reyena said, standing up to smile at the headmaster. She turned and picked up the redhead from the floor, and held him close.  
  
"Dumbledee help!" Ron cried, smiling gleefully at the headmaster and Reyena. The trio laughed at that, and Dumbledore started out the door.  
  
"You two will be good for the boy," the old man told them, as Reyena, with Ron on her hip, and Filius followed to see him out. "I hope, with your help, he will become a normal boy of his age."  
  
Dumbledore turned before walking out into the sunshine.  
  
"Thank you both, for taking on this momentous challenge. I will remember it always. And if ever you need help, of any kind," he added with a glance to Reyena, "you know where to ask of it." He made to leave, taking his wand out to apparently apparate to outside Hogwarts grounds, but he paused, just before his wand went down over his head. "Oh, and Filius?" he turned and asked, giving the stout professor an amused gaze.  
  
"Yes, Albus?" the charms master asked curiously.  
  
"I will see you on September the first, will I not?"  
  
"Yes Headmaster, I wouldn't miss it," the wizard squeaked out with a grin, and with the old headmaster popped out of existence.  
  
"Come on in Fili," Reyena said, and headed back to the small house. She set Ron down in the entryway, and began to show him around the house, explaining to him where everything was and what everything did as she went along. The young boy looked fascinated.  
  
Filius, watching them walk away, wondered for a moment what he had gotten himself into, but he shook his small head, laughed, and followed the young boy that would become an icon to the Wizarding World; a boy that would spend the next few weeks wandering around the house, forlorn one minute, giggling the next; a boy that, Filius guessed, would, undoubtedly, have quite an unusual future.  
  
But it would be thrilling to witness firsthand.  
  
TBC.  
  
  
  
oo00ooOOoo00ooOOoo00ooOOoo00ooOOoo00ooOOoo00ooOOoo00ooOOoo00oo  
  
  
  
Well? What did you all think of Reyena?  
  
I am going to try and make everything as original as possible, but please keep in mind that from here on out EVERYONE will be *very * OOC. And please don't kill me for it.  
  
Or maybe you should, cuz it would mean you're reviewing. Oh well. give me your two cents if you feel I deserve them.  
  
And trust me, I am broke in the bank of reviews, I could use a good two cents.  
  
Okay, shutting up..  
  
Thanks!!  
  
Leanne: THANK YOU!!! The first reviewer since chapter 5, I was beginning to loose faith.. It meant tons!!!  
  
Tootles all!! 


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